


Choice

by captive_hetalian



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (it's minor and character background content and isn't a force of conflict so don't worry), Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, Lighthearted, M/M, Religious Content, Secret Santa, but mostly lighthearted, cryptid AU, some minor angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28636569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captive_hetalian/pseuds/captive_hetalian
Summary: Ivan needed to escape his village due to the accusations of a witch hunter. He comes across an old farm, where he meets a creature that at first seems to come straight out of a nightmare. As he gets to know the creature, though, he sees that he's kind, and Ivan finds himself developing feelings for him. His older sister, Kateryna, though promises that Ivan could return and go back to his old life, and Ivan isn't sure how to choose between his old life as a priest and his new life as a farmer, with this creature.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Kudos: 17





	Choice

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for mattieshew for RusAme Secret Santa, organized by spring-has-come on Tumblr. I hope you like it and don't mind it being a day late ^^" I don't write fluff a lot, but I think this came out pretty well. I didn't have an exact year for the story happening, so that I wouldn't end up using all the time doing research, so there's likely details that aren't right, but I hope that's alright!

Alfred’s claws made holding the metal-toothed brushes difficult. It looked as though his nails, shiny and black like obsidian flints, were going to cut into the meat of his palms, but whenever Ivan had tried taking a file to them, the creature would jump back, making himself resemble a startled cat rather than a monster from Kateryna’s bedtime tales.

The tip of his tongue stuck comically out of the corner of his mouth, and late afternoon sunlight bounced off the snow outside, brightening the den. Sitting atop the trunk in front of the window, the pale winter light almost creating a halo around Alfred’s head as it washed over his long, golden hair, which covered his exposed spine—the same near-translucent obsidian black as his claws. One of his deer-like ears twitched as he focused, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as his white, cat-like pupils expanded slightly.

His full lips, the color of dusk just as it tips down into night, pursed as he drew his tongue back into his mouth.

His long legs were folded and crossed in front of him, Solnyshko purring atop a knitted blanket that covered his legs, which were thin and covered in golden fur below his knees, ending in obsidian cloven hooves.

The creature did not seem to like tunics, which irritated his exposed spine, and Ivan’s trousers were too wide for him—reminding Ivan of the days Mother Superior would tease him about his “womanly” hips and legs. Alfred didn’t like having to use a belt every day, so they’d spent the past month designing trousers Alfred seemed to like in-between his usual reading and writing lessons. Ivan wasn’t sure about knitted wool pants, but Alfred was insistent that he wanted them to feel like his blanket.

It was hard to believe this was the creature Ivan had been scared of at first. A creature without a name and reacted to the idea of having one like a man may react to finding treasure. It was not long after harvesting the potatoes that Ivan showed him lists of names from a few different cultures, confident Alfred could read them and choose one he liked best.

He hadn’t been able to choose between the names Alfred and Frederick, so Ivan had suggested he use both, explaining to him the tradition of having two names—a given name and baptismal name—since a patronymic name wouldn’t work for him.

_“Baptismal?”_ _Alfred inquired, tilting his head slightly._

_ It was such an innocent motion for a creature those in Ivan’s old village would claim had come from Hell itself. _

_ As the days grew shorter, the creature’s golden-brown skin grew lighter, and his shining-gold lips had darkened to a shade akin to tarnished bronze. The whites of his eyes were darkening also, now grey, and his pupils were lightening, becoming the same shade as his sclera. _

_ Tearing his eyes from the creature’s guileless face, Ivan looked down at the pile of potatoes he’d dug up with him this morning. He sat in front of a basin of water Alfred had fetched for them from the nearby river, and Alfred sat opposite of him, squatting so his bony knees poked up in front of his scarred chest. _

_ “For baptism,” Ivan explained as he showed Alfred how to wash a potato. He held back a grin when Alfred’s head cocked to the other side, his long hair shifting over his shoulder. _

_ His antlers, the same color as his claws and spine, gleamed in the sunlight, but according to Alfred, they would shed when the first snow fell. _

_ “Baptism is a ceremony,” Ivan continued, “in the Church—somewhere we worship the God of Creation. As babies, our parents present us to the priest, and he pours holy water over our heads. In the Bible, though, people would be baptized by wading into a river or something and they’d be laid down under the water and brought up again. It’s to symbolize original sin being washed away and us being born again into a new life.” _

_ Sitting straight now as he watched Ivan’s face with unblinking eyes, Alfred hummed in contemplation. _

_ While having grown used to the creature’s presence since first settling into this old farm and breathing life into it once more, Ivan still felt unnerved by Alfred’s gaze. Still, he hid this unease as he continued washing, not wanting to hurt Alfred’s feelings. He’d come to see that the creature was rather sensitive, a major point of this was how people reacted to seeing him. This had included Ivan at first, until he realized Alfred was just lonely. _

_ Something he understood intimately well, despite his sisters. _

_ “Could you baptize me?” Alfred asked finally, and both were splashed with water when the potato and brush in Ivan’s hands slipped into the basin. _

_ “Um….” Ivan swallowed and quickly leaned down to fish out the potato and scrubbing brush. “I-I’m not a priest.” _

_ The statement burned Ivan’s tongue as he tasted bile. He swallowed again, throat burning. _

_ Alfred blinked slowly and glanced at the white square in the center of the collar hugging the tall human’s neck. _

_ “Why do you want to be baptized?” Ivan asked quickly. _

_ Alfred again blinked slowly, not as oblivious to Ivan’s discomfort as he appeared. He waited a moment before answering, weighing the words he was still learning and thinking carefully about how they may come across to the large human before him. _

_ “Because living with you is my new life.” _

By the time enough wool was brushed out to start spinning it into thread, dusk had fallen. The animals still needed their second feeding of the day, so Ivan told Alfred to work on the math problems he’d set up for tonight while he was in the stables.

“Can I try petting Bliny again?” Alfred asked, his sky-blue eyes, bright against the black of his sclera, lighting up with hope.

It was getting too dark to find the black Clydesdale if— _ when _ , if Ivan were to be honest—ran off again soon as Alfred entered the stables. He didn’t want to say that and hurt Alfred’s feelings, though, so he suggested they try tomorrow, so Alfred could try bringing one of the apple tarts they’d bake together in the morning.

Alfred flashed his fangs in a grin as he practically bounced, jostling Solnyshko. The orange tabby yowled in complaint, making Alfred suddenly still until Solnyshko yawned, kneaded Alfred’s thigh with his front paws, and settled back down into sleep.

“You can move him,” Ivan told Alfred, grabbing his brown cloak and the scarf Kateryna had pushed into his hands as the crowd approached the church that dark, freezing night.

Shivering despite the fire in the large hearth, Ivan drew in a deep breath as he wound the long scarf around his neck, covering the collar he still dutifully wore.

Or maybe it was stubbornness—a refusal to let go of a past he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to if offered the chance.

“But he likes me now.” Alfred scratched Solnyshko behind his ears, being careful to keep the pressure light. He grinned again when the cat started purring, and his ears wiggled slightly.

Smiling as he shoved his feet into his boots, Ivan reminded Alfred that the preserves they made were ready if he wanted tea.

“And beet cake?” Alfred asked hopefully, eyes wide.

“Only one slice,” Ivan told him, trying and failing to sound stern. “And only after you finish your math problems.”

Alfred hummed, eyes sweeping across the den before landing on his slate, which was sitting atop the waist-high bookcase just left of the hearth. He then looked down at Solnyshko as his ears and broad shoulders drooped.

Chuckling, Ivan pulled on one of his gloves and walked outside, pulling his hood up as he headed towards the tall hook holding onto a lantern. Ivan unhooked the small, silver latch, murmuring the words Natalya had taught him before pinching the black wick. He held on until he felt his fingertips grow hot, and he snatched his hand back and stopped chanting, nearly burning himself on the sudden blue flame. He shook his hand once before closing the lantern’s glass door.

Ivan smiled as he thought of his little sister, though his indigo eyes stung as he pulled on his other glove. His breath rose in front of him as a thin cloud as he sighed, taking the lantern before heading towards the stable.

Kateryna had promised the village was calmer now in her last letter. The parchment was nearly falling apart with how often Ivan had folded and unfolded it to read and reread her near-illegible script, many words scribbled over or covered from blots due to Kateryna’s bad habit of pressing down on the quill too hard.

Months have passed, and Ivan still had not responded, not sure what answer he could give. It felt like his heart may break either way.

What would Kateryna think of Alfred? Natalya would be intrigued by him at least, poking and prodding him and asking question after question to learn as much as she could.

If Kateryna didn’t drag her away first and declare Ivan as bewitched.

Sometimes Ivan wondered if he was.

_ Natalya would calm her down after a while _ , Ivan told himself.  _ If only so she’d be allowed to study Alfred. _

At least that night had not killed that curiosity of hers, that drive to soak in as much information as she could seek out. In Kateryna’s last letter, she’d included nearly five pages all about Natalya, saying she was still making medicine and potions, though she had to be even more careful now. She’d again started studying the capabilities and limits of the magic that came so much more easily to her than it did to Ivan, now that the witch hunter was finally gone.

The goats and sheep let out bleeps and  _ baa _ s as they trotted up to Ivan, dragging him out of his thoughts.

“Hello,” Ivan absentmindedly said to them. “Sorry I’m late. I needed to ensure Alfred didn’t cut himself just trying to brush out your wool.” He walked slowly to make sure he didn’t accidentally kick one of the animals. “I’m almost scared of showing him how to knit.”

One of the goats bleated as though responding as Ivan pushed the stable door open wider. Ilya, the sheepdog, lifted his head as Ivan entered and hung up his lantern on the hook between the door and feed box, and Sasha, the eldest of the sheep, remained asleep. Valery the cat, who trotted like a horse, was nowhere to be seen, but he would appear soon as Ivan poured grain into the trough. The little glutton would eat anything—expect anything out of Solnyshko’s bowl, after the orange tabby nearly took Valery’s ear off in retaliation.

Further into the stable, Bliny exhaled loudly, sounding annoyed that he hadn’t been fed yet.

“Be patient!” Ivan chided the young goats and sheep as they crowded him again. They weren’t babies anymore but definitely acted like it, one playfully head-butting Ivan in the leg to get him to hurry up with their dinner.

As expected, Valery appeared soon as feed was in the trough, winding around everyone’s legs and meowing loud enough to wake the dead.

Rolling his eyes, Ivan drew out another scoop of feed with the large, tin cup and headed further into the stable, whispering more words Natalya had taught him. The blue flame in the lantern grew larger, making it easier to see as he reached Bliney’s stall.

There hadn’t been time to argue when Kateryna told him to take their only horse, both of them knowing full well that Kateryna’s wages weren’t enough for her to get another, not with food prices going up again.

Bliney exhaled sharply when Ivan poured the feed into his trough on the inside of the chest-high door. It was as though he were saying, “ _ Finally _ .”

As Bliney ate, Ivan looked over at the water, in the corner, the basin sitting on an enchanted blanket that made sure the water wouldn’t freeze. This area didn’t get as cold as his village, giving Ivan more needed time to plant and harvest and less time forced underneath dreary-grey skies and sloughing through snow. He never would have considered before that he’d be more successful as a farmer than a priest, but he guessed the Lord was as mysterious as he’d assured his parishioners during Confession.

_ Dappled sunlight fell softly over Ivan and the forest floor, bringing a smile to his face despite the ache in his chest. _

_ He’d lived under slate-grey skies for so long, and now he was surrounded by so much green. Green and gold. He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt hot drops hit his chilly hands. He was too tired to wipe them away, though. He’d been travelling for weeks now, his stomach still upset after the most recent days-long rest after eating the wrong berries. _

_ Hopefully he’d explained his travel plans well enough in his last letter for his sister’s raven to find him. In the last letter he’d gotten from them, Kateryna said Natalya lived in the convent now, Mother Superior agreeing to shield her and give her what she needed to continue her studies and her work as a healer. Kateryna was helping their father, aunts, and cousins on their small farm now, since no one would hire her anymore, and despite her reservations at first, she said she was enjoying the work. _

_ Soon, Ivan heard water gurgling over rock, and the itch in his throat grew ten-fold as he realized his mouth was dry. _

_ Clicking his tongue and squeezing his calves against Bliney’s sides, Ivan urged the steed into a trot, then a canter once the forest opened up into a field. _

_ The sky opened up above him, few clouds hanging to cover the great expanse of such a beautiful shade of blue. He leaned back to slow Bliney back into a walk, just so he could take in the beauty as a breeze picked up and knocked back the hood of the dark blue riding cloak Yao had insisted on giving him as a thank you. _

_ Ivan’s hair, now bushing his wide shoulders, looked white under the bright light, and his indigo eyes appeared to be an unnatural shade of violet—eyes his sisters had envied and the witch hunter had used as evidence. _

_ Bliney snorted, and Ivan managed to regain his balance when the clydesdale came to a sudden stop. _

_ “What—” _

_ He stopped, staring at the sea of sunflowers that had to be heads taller than his impressive height. He thought he could make out a thatch roof in the center of the golden sea. The sound of running water was louder, and when he tore his eyes away from the beautiful flowers and looked further out towards the east, Ivan saw a curving river in the distance, bordering one side of the sunflower field. _

_ Clicking his tongue, Ivan squeezed his calves against Bliney’s sides, leading him towards a narrow path through the sunflowers he spotted. _

_ As they neared the entrance, though, Bliney snorted and whinnied, dancing back as Ivan swore and tried to pull the horse’s head forward again. _

_ Bliney, though, was not having it and threw Ivan off before running off back towards the forest. _

_ Grumbling oaths under his breath, Ivan lay in the grass, trying to catch his breath and mentally assess how he felt—other than pissed-off. _

_ “Damn horse,” he muttered before taking a deep breath. _

_ He started to push himself up only to fall down again, rolling onto his back as he held his left arm close to his chest. Swearing through clenched teeth, Ivan remained still as he held his shaking arm to his body as tightly as he could stand. _

_ By how the pain travelled when he grasped his forearm, Ivan could discern that the (likely) break was a few inches below his elbow. He thought about the thatch roofs he’d seen and weighed the chances of finding supplies or help in one of the houses against the chances of finding Bliney and digging out what supplies he might have packed. _

_ Whispering a psalm for protection, Ivan got up, still holding onto his arm, and he stopped short in the middle of the psalm to shout out a curse. _

_ Great, his ankle was sprained. It wasn’t too bad to keep him from limping, though his knee was stiff to the point of him not wanting to fully stretch it out. _

_ It was a slow journey even just to the edge of the sunflowers, and by the time he found the mouth of the narrow path, sweat was already beginning to plaster Ivan’s fine hair to his face and neck. He felt stifling suddenly, the heat and sun no longer friendly. They now felt unyielding and hostile, and once in the gentle shade of the towering sunflowers, Ivan sighed in relief, only to flinch as the motion sent pain shooting down his arm and up his leg. _

_ Limping along, Ivan kept his eyes ahead, grunting as his vision started to blur at the edges. He prayed for God’s hand to keep him protected and that he would remain conscious until reaching the house. The path was too narrow and made too many turns for Ivan to see the house ahead of him, and a downside of the flowers’ heads blocking the sun was that he couldn’t tell how much time had passed. His pain and slowness told him it had been hours, but he was sure he couldn’t have been limping along for longer than a few minutes. _

_ The palm-sized leaves running up the sunflower stalks rustled as Ivan passed, something odd about the noise that Ivan couldn’t quite place. It took so much of his focus to simply keep moving forward, black stars gathering at the corners of his vision. _

_ “... to me.” _

_ Blinking slowly, Ivan shook his head. _

_ “Ivan, please do not lie to me.” _

_ This time, Ivan froze, eyes wide as he listened. _

_ “Are you sure this is what you want?” _

_ Ivan huffed out a breath but could not draw new air in. He shook, bottom lip trembling. _

_ “Okay.” _

_ His eyes stung, a hot tear slipping down his flushed cheek. _

_ “I’ll help you. However I can.” _

_ “K—” Ivan managed to swallow air as another tear escaped. “Kateryna…?”  _

_ He turned towards the voice as the leaves there rustled, and Ivan saw a shadow grow bigger. _

Once everyone had been fed and the latch on the chicken coop had been checked, Ivan started for the house again, chuckling when Ilya ran up behind him, stopping when he reached his heel. The medium-sized shepherd dog let out a whine that turned into a happy pant when Ivan leaned down to scratch him behind his ears.

“You sure?” Ivan asked before he started walking again.

When they were close enough to the house to see by the light coming through the windows, Ilya froze, ears up as he stood alert.

“Com—of course.” Ivan sighed, disappointed as Ilya sprinted back towards the barn.

Solnyshko was the only one of the animals that liked Alfred, and he didn’t start to sleep on him or rub against him until a week ago. Sciocco, the spotted sheep the southern Italian merchant had traded to Ivan several months ago, followed Alfred when Ivan allowed him to walk around the farm and try feeding the animals, but Ivan was sure Sciocco would follow a pack of wolves if one had hay stuck in its fur.

Inside, it seemed Alfred had chosen beet cake over Solnyshko’s comfort, but the cat was wandering towards him again as he sat at the dining table, back to Ivan as he worked on his arithmetic. He learned quickly and could read at a much higher level now than Ivan would expect for someone who’d started less than a year ago. So with Cyrllic more-or-less mastered, Ivan had gotten him started on learning the Latin alphabet and simple phrases in German, since Ivan often had to speak it to do work with those in the nearby town. Teaching Alfred helped Ivan learn it better, and the town’s white-haired sentry that liked to give him a hard time even said his accent was better.

Well, he’d said it was “less atrocious, and I can actually understand half the words you’re saying,” but that was praise coming from him.

Ivan was considering teaching him Latin and Greek, too, since Alfred wanted to look at Ivan’s Bible and philosophy books with him, but Ivan didn’t want to give him too much too quickly, and Alfred needed to learn basic math too, since he was insisting on helping Ivan with the book-keeping.

Leaving his boots, socks, cloak, and scarf near the fire, Ivan rubbed his hands as he walked past Alfred. He glanced at his slate and smiled but stayed silent, wanting Alfred to concentrate.

The creature had limited psychic powers, and they sometimes got in the way of his attention. Alfred used the powers to communicate, like when he imitated Kateryna’s and Natalya’s voices when he and Ivan first met.

Well “met” may not be the best word. Ivan had been terrified, the adrenaline mixed with terror and the pain of his broken arm and sprained ankle causing him to faint.

When he’d awoken, he was in the house, much dustier than it was now and smelling of mildew.

_ “Get away!” Ivan cried out, swearing as he toppled out of a chair with uneven legs. _

_ He landed on his hurt arm, yelling obscenities as warm hands gently brought him up to a sitting position. _

_ “Bratishka, come see this mushroom I found!” _

_ Ivan’s eyes flew open at the sound of Natalya’s voice when she was young. The memory of her excitedly pulling him away from his books and towards the forest filled his mind as he landed a kick square in the chest of the monster in front of him—only to curse and curl up when he realized he’d done it with his hurt leg. _

_ A whining sound made Ivan look through a gap in his hair, which had fallen over his face. In front of him, the monster held his clawed hands over where Ivan had kicked him, and it breathed deeply, tears rolling down its cheeks. _

_ Heart giving a pang despite his better judgement, Ivan carefully pushed himself up, and he finally noticed that his left arm was in a sling. Two flat pieces of wood sandwiched his forearm, and what looked like braided vines kept them tight against his skin. His hand was already losing sensation; it seemed the monster had a basic idea about first aid but didn’t really know why or with what a splint needed to tied to the hurt limb or with what material. _

_ “Are you—?” Ivan flinched when the monster suddenly looked up and made eye-contact with him.  _

_ The monster’s eyes were large with long, golden lashes. The irises were bigger than what was normal for a human, and its pupils were cat-like, even though its long ears, antlers, and hooves said it was part deer. _

He _ , Ivan mentally corrected himself, feeling his face heat up when he saw that the monster wasn’t wearing clothing. _

_ “Are you… helping me?” Ivan asked, trying and failing to keep his voice from shaking. _

_ The monster tilted his head, looking confused, but he opened his mouth, and once again, his younger sister’s timid voice came out: _

_ “Do you think I could find someone like Ruth finding Naomi?” _

_ Ivan, eyes stinging again, nearly blurted what he’d said to Natalya all those years ago: “I hope so. Just as I hope like King David, I might find someone like Jonathan _ . _ ” _

_ Instead, Ivan swallowed down the words, feeling a lump in his throat. “C—” He swallowed again, his tongue dry. “D-do you understand what you’re saying? Wh-what I’m saying?” _

_ The monster only stared and tilted his head to the other side, long hair falling over his shoulder. _

_ “That is a no,” Ivan whispered. _

_ Somehow, the monster was taking the words of his sisters from his memory, but he didn’t understand what the words meant. _

_ Straightening, the monster inched forward, stopping when Ivan flinched again. He waited, then inched forward again, then stopped again, still staring. _

_ “Um….” Ivan offered a slow nod, and the monster continued forward, offering his hands as he again stole a line from Ivan’s memory, this time in Kateryna’s voice: _

_ “Come pick white clover with me and Natalya! We can make crowns for each other.” _

_ Ivan didn’t know how to respond when he didn’t know how Alfred was speaking like this or why. _

_ As he thought, Alfred started to reach out to him, stopping when, again, Ivan flinched. He licked his lips and nodded, trying to remain still as Alfred ran his warm fingers over his head, stopping part way down the back of his neck and returning his hand to the crown of his head to start again. _

_ After a moment, Ivan blinked, realizing what Alfred was doing.  _ Is he… petting me?

_ Heat bloomed over his face again, but he didn’t move, mostly out of not knowing what to say or if saying anything would do any good. _

_ As Alfred kept petting him, though, careful of his claws as they combed through Ivan’s hair, Ivan thought of the stray cats that had lived in his village. He thought of how Kateryna would kneel and reach a hand out, meowing as though hoping the noises would calm the cats and make them trust her. _

_ Was that what Alfred was doing? _

The water left in the kettle was still hot, and Alfred had left out a cup, tea leaves, and jar of strawberry preserves for him.

Leaving the tea to steep, Ivan retrieved the beet cake, smiling when he heard Alfred’s foot start tapping in anticipation. Ivan retrieved his flint stone from a drawer and started a fire in the oven and used magic to get it down to the right intensity before slipping in the pan and latching the oven door shut.

“It will be warm soon,” Ivan told Alfred as he overturned the smallest of the sand clocks he’d bought from the French trader passing through some time ago. “Are you ready for me to check your work?”

“Yes.” Alfred sat up and moved the slate around to face Ivan as he sat down opposite of him. Alfred picked up his tea to take a long sip, other hand under the table to scratch Solnyshko behind the ears.

Ivan smiled at Alfred’s work, turning the slate back around to point out the mistakes.

“You’re doing well,” he assured, though, unable to keep from smiling when Alfred grinned.

It lit up his entire face, and despite the lingering chill from being outside, the sight of such unabashed joy from such a small compliment made Ivan feel warmth pulse and grow within his chest.

When the beet cake was warm enough, Alfred was finished with his math problems, and Ivan returned the slate to its spot on the bookcase, so Alfred wouldn’t disturb Solnyshko’s rest again.

Ivan also brewed more tea for the both of them, teasing Alfred that he would need to clean the kitchen now, when they were done. His ears drooped at the news, making Ivan chuckle, but he nodded in agreement.

It had taken more work to teach Alfred how to clean than it had to teach him how to read. Ivan wasn’t sure how long Alfred had lived here alone with nothing but sunflowers to keep him company, but with how thick the layers of dust had been, along with the smell of mildew and rotting wood, Ivan was sure he hadn’t bothered to ever maintain the house.

He was getting the hang of washing and wiping, though, and he learned the hard way to be careful when scrubbing the floor.

Ivan had tripped over the firewood he’d dropped upon hearing Alfred scream. Thankfully, he’d been fine, only surprised, then scared Ivan would be angry. He’d frozen when Ivan threw his arms around him in relief, shocked by the sudden embrace he hadn’t known the meaning behind.

_ “I was worried.” Ivan moved his hands to the creature’s freckled shoulders and held him out at arm’s length. His relief and the lingering fear melted into irritation, a wrinkle forming between his eyes. “I thought you were hurt.” _

_ “You were… worried?” The creature blinked. “You were… not trying to hurt me?” _

_ Suddenly, Ivan remembered the creature’s exposed spine, hidden by his long hair and sensitive to touch, even by clothing. Even the silk robe he’d sold some of his books to be able to afford hadn’t helped, despite the praises Yao had sung about the material. _

_ “N-no!” Ivan held up his palms in a defensive motion. “I’m sorry if I did.” _

_ “You did not,” the creature informed, then tilted his head. “Then why?” _

_ “The hug?” _

_ “Hug?” _

_ “Um.” Ivan shifted so that he sat with his legs crossed in front of him, and his mouth twitched into the start of a smile when the creature mirrored him, looking earnest. “A hug is something you do to someone you care about. You put your arms around their neck or around their chest or stomach and hold them.” _

_ The creature’s eyes widened, shining. “Someone you… care about?” _

_ Ivan’s face went hot. “Um. Yes.” _

_ “Do I hug you back?” _

_ “I-if you’d like to.” _

_ Making a much too serious expression for the situation, the creature gave a nod and came forward, wrapping his arms around Ivan’s neck. He swallowed nervously and returned the embrace. _

_ After a few minutes, Ivan’s heartbeat roared in his ears as his cheeks burned, and he barely heard the creature’s voice when he asked, “How long do we hug?” _

_ Feeling his lips tingle as the creature’s hair brushed along them, Ivan tried not to breathe too deeply. His chest ached, thoughts torn between picturing himself here, years into the future with Alfred by his side, and returning to his village, to his family home that his great-great-great grandfather had built with his brothers. _

_ Living here was only supposed to be temporary, Ivan finding a place to stay for a few years until the witch hunter left and the villagers were open to him returning, maybe even back into the church. Even if he only did menial tasks, maybe work in the library, he would be fine, he kept telling himself. _

_ Now, feeling the creature’s warmth envelop him, Ivan wasn’t so sure. _

Solnyshko had already wandered to her usual spot by the fire when Alfred started cleaning up the kitchen. He hummed in response when Ivan informed him that he had some work to do in his office.

_ Office _ was a bit of an overstatement. It was more of a nook adjacent to the bedroom he and Alfred shared.

Ivan grabbed the lantern that had been on the dining table to take with him, knowing Alfred could see perfectly in darkness.

The nook Ivan used as his office was small; the large oaken desk the carpenter travelling from Norway had made for him took up most of the space. The chair was one of the originals from the broken table set that had been in the house when Ivan first arrived. He’d fixed it up with the carpenter’s tips, not having wanted to toss away such beautiful craftsmanship. The back was tall, the twin peacocks at the top resting above Ivan’s head when he sat down. The back was carved to resemble bunches of roses, and the arms were carved to look like the peacock’s tail feathers.

After sharpening his quill, Ivan opened his ledger and log. He’d taken inventory of what he had in the root cellar this morning while Alfred read his assigned book for the week, and he made note of how much of the wool from Ivan’s stash he and Alfred had brushed out today to spin tomorrow.

The candle in his lantern was getting close to burning itself out by the time Ivan had switched to writing in his journal. He sighed and rummaged through the bottom right drawer to dig out another candle. It looked like he and Alfred would need to start making more soon. On top of Alfred’s clothes; rethatching the roof; and bringing preserves, wool, goat cheese, and bread to the market in the nearby village (once Ivan made the bread)... The chores never seemed to end.

And yet, while thinking about it, thinking about helping Alfred up the ladder he’d built specially to accommodate Alfred’s hooves, thinking about Alfred learning how to dye wool, thinking about Alfred asking every few minutes when the bread would be done and if he could try it and if he could follow him to town this one time—it made Ivan smile.

His fingers brushed along his lips, as though to verify this.

Leaving his journal open to dry, Ivan took out Kateryna’s pages-long letter, practically a book. How the crow had managed to fly it all this way without trouble was further proof the raven he and his sisters summoned to carry these letters were magic.

He skipped to the final two pages, where Kateryna said that the witch hunter had lost the respect of the rest of the village when he tried accusing Mother Superior as consorting with the Devil. While there’d been many who’d fallen to doubt after Ivan had been run out of the town, the Mother Superior was well-loved by all, the sort of person who somehow remembered everyone’s names and what they’d been going through the last time they spoke to her.

She should have been the one listening to everyone’s confessions, Ivan had always told her. He’d been much more accustomed to the studious side of priesthood than he had been to actually helping people. Mother Superior used to say he’d be a scholar instead of a priest, had he been born into a higher class in a city instead of to farmers in their tiny village.

Kateryna said their father had been asking about his safety and health, which felt more like a subtle poke at Ivan’s emotions than a truthful statement. She assured that most would welcome him back, and Mother Superior could help convince others still suspicious of him.

Ivan kept noticing all the  _ should _ s and  _ maybe _ s. Kateryna had much too pure of a heart to lie outright, instead offering optimism and potential positives in effort to share her hope. She’d always had much more of it than her more pessimistic siblings.

“Have—Oh, I am sorry.” The tapping sound of Alfred’s hooves against the pine floor echoed as he took a few steps back, head tilted downwards and hands nervously wringing his blanket. “I did not mean to startle you.”

Scooting the chair around, Ivan tried for a reassuring smile. “It’s alright. I was lost in thought. If you’re already tired, you can climb into my bed, and I’ll take yours, so I don’t wake you.”

The bedroom was small, so to reach his bed, Ivan had to climb over Alfred’s or walk out the door around Alfred’s bed, squeezing past to reach Ivan’s. Whenever he did that, he never failed to kick one or both beds, and Alfred was a very light sleeper.

“Thank you,” Alfred replied after a moment, eyes still downcast as he continued wringing his blanket. He didn’t move, and Ivan’s smile fell.

“Is there something else?”

Ivan, nervous now, was about to ask again when Alfred finally pointed at Kateryna’s letter. As he did, though, he still did not meet Ivan’s gaze.

“Your sister really misses you.”

Alfred blinked quickly, looking close to tears. He hadn’t worn an expression like that since the first day they met, after Ivan kicked him.

Before he could say anything, though, Alfred finally met his eye as he hugged his blanket to this chest.

“You should go to her,” Alfred said with surety even as his eyes continued to fill with tears. “Her and the rest of your family. Your sister says it is safe now, and…” He blinked hard, tears escaping, and he stepped back again when Ivan stood, Alfred’s thighs hitting the edge of his bed. Again, Alfred’s eyes went to the floor. “They should not have to suffer your absence longer.”

The first sentence to run through Ivan’s head was  _ But then I would suffer  _ your  _ absence _ .

The words, however, got stuck in his throat, feeling as though they blocked air from finding his lungs.

When his silence stretched on, Alfred turned, but before he could bound out of the room, Ivan lurched forward, hand wrapping around Alfred’s wrist before he even realized he’d moved. Heat rose to his face as he realized their position, but instead of stepping away, Ivan drew his hand back and lifted his other, so his hands rested over Alfred’s heart, the quickening beat sending waves of heat up Ivan’s arms.

He stepped forward, so he could rest his forehead atop Alfred’s shoulder, his hair tickling Ivan’s face, but he made sure not to touch Alfred’s spine.

“You don’t get to make my decisions for me,” he whispered, stepping back when Alfred turned around. Ivan took his hands, making him drop his blanket over their feet. “I love my family and miss them, deeply, but I—” The word caught in his throat for a moment as he stared into Alfred’s wide, glossy eyes. “I love you, too. You said before this was your new life. Let it be mine as well.”

Alfred opened his mouth to speak when Ivan dropped his hands and reached for his collar.

“Ivan, your family—”

“Here.” Ivan closed Alfred’s hands around the bleached-white linen. “I will make you a deal. Hold onto this for me. We will both come to a decision, in time, when the last snow melts. By then, it will have been three years and a season since I first asked you to move into this home with me. We’ll tell each other then if we want this to be our new life onwards. Together. Or if we want to split ways. Does that sound like a good deal?”

“What if your sisters or father demand your return?” Alfred asked, the defeated tone in his voice sending an aching pang through Ivan’s heart.

Enclosing his hands around Alfred’s, Ivan said in a gentle voice, “Ephesians tells us to leave our mother and father to be joined with that whom we love fully, to be joined, as though of one flesh. If my and your choice is to remain here, but I break that to adhere to my birth family’s demands, I have betrayed God, myself…  _ you _ .”Ivan’s voice cracked, and he paused to swallow the lump in his throat. “That is not something I could ever bring myself to do.” He cupped Alfred’s cheek with one hand, the other remaining beneath Alfred’s trembling fists as he shook and wrinkled the cloth in his grip. “But only if you choose this life with me, also.”

_ Everyday, _ Alfred thought.  _ Every single morning, since you said I was worth enough to have my own name, I’ve chosen you. _

But instead of saying that, he whispered, “When the last snow melts.”

With his expression holding such relief that Alfred allowed himself to hold onto hope despite his better judgement, Ivan whispered back, “When the last snow melts. I’ll send a raven to my sister after we’ve broken our fast in the morning, telling her that I’ll alert her of my decision then and why.”

Alfred was quiet for so long that Ivan began to panic, until he finally lifted his big, blue eyes to Ivan’s and asked timidly, “Do we have honey still, to have with cheese?”

Ivan was so relieved that Alfred had not suddenly changed his mind that all he could do was laugh, his hands falling like weights to his side.

“Yes,” he huffed, suddenly feeling very tired. “I think I still have a jar left I hadn’t sold in town last month.”

They no longer had ricotta cheese nor walnuts for Ivan to make the dish exactly like the traveller form Catalonia had shown him, but he was sure the goat cheese was merely a vehicle to get honey into Alfred’s mouth.

“Let us go to bed,” Ivan said, going back into the office to retrieve his lantern. “We’re both tired, and this sounds like something we should talk about more over food and tea.”

“Instead of spinning the wool?” Alfred’s ears perked up a bit as he picked up his blanket.

“ _ Before  _ spinning the wool. I’m not making your new trousers all by myself.” Ivan smiled as Alfred’s ears drooped, but he nodded.

“Okay….”

_ “What do you mean you don’t have a name?” Ivan bit back a sigh and repeated the question again more slowly when the creature said he hadn’t understood him. _

_ He kept his head still, eyes trained on the stone mantle framing the fireplace. Scarlet embers glowed among the ash, the past fire’s warmth still filling the den. It felt almost stifling with the spike of warm weather outside, despite the snow still on the ground. It would all be mud within the week, which was sure to make Ilya, Ivan’s new puppy, happy. The sheepdog was currently asleep in the stables with Bliney and the two goats Ivan had purchased back in the summer, when he’d decided he might as well settle here and make a home for himself. _

_ He was so tired of travelling. He’d loved the people he’d gotten to meet, who he’d managed to help when he’d fallen into the darkest of thoughts, fearing he couldn’t help himself, let alone anyone else. _

_ And this creature, doing something so mundane, had looked so lonely, so scared of Ivan leaving that he just… couldn’t. _

_ When he’d said he’d stay, the creature’s ears perked up, eyes wide as his pupils expanded, and his golden lips stretched into a wide, wobbling smile—like he’d feared Ivan would change his mind and leave after all. _

_ He’d been sleeping outside, though, away from the stables so as to not scare the animals. They’d nearly lost Ivan’s new kittens, the poor things running straight into the river to get away to what they thought was a monster. _

_ “No one has ever given me one,” the creature said after a moment. His words were slow, measured, tongue clumsy with the words. Much clumsier than Ivan had assumed after hearing him mimic his sisters’ voices so perfectly. _

_ His actual voice was a higher pitch than he’d expected, but it was gravelly, possibly from disuse. The creature had told him at the start of their lessons that he’d had no reason before to learn language. _

_ “People,” the creature continued, “only called me what I am not.” _

_ “What you’re not?” Ivan’s bare shoulders were tickled by his hair as the creature meticulously combed it up lock by lock, using a shaving razor to lightly tap the strands to cut it down to feathery layers. _

_ “They would call me Not Deer,” the creature informed, saying the last two words in the local German dialect. It took a moment for Ivan to recognize the words. _

_ More embers faded to black, before Ivan asked, “Would you like a name?” _

_ The creature didn’t answer for a while. Ivan only heard the knife glancing off his hair and the wind coming in through the open windows. _

_ “What do you want to call me?” The creature folded the razor and dusted Ivan’s broad back and shoulders with a cleaning cloth. _

_ “I think it’d be more appropriate for you to choose your own name,” Ivan responded, freezing when Alfred suddenly withdrew from him. His cheeks and the tips of his ears burned as he kept going, stuttering and tripping over his own words: “I-I just think, um, that y-you sh-should be able to, um, be called a name you, well, like, so, I, well, could show you n-names as you keep, well, learning how to read, and—” _

_ He jumped, realizing Alfred had walked around him and now knelt in front of him, face tilted up so he could meet Ivan’s gaze. Atop his head, there were small, obsidian nubs, showing that his antlers were growing back. _

_ “Could we start now?” he asked, eyes wide and excited, and Ivan felt such relief and joy in seeing such an earnest expression that all he could do was laugh. _

_ “Yes. Just let me get dressed first, and we’ll begin your reading lessons.” _

The next morning, as Alfred ate, eyes closed in bliss as he savored each bite of his goat cheese and honey, Ivan sharpened his quill. Unfortunately, he was going to need to keep his letter short, which felt like an insult after Kateryna’s novel to him—especially when it had taken him months to finally reply—but maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t have the loose paper available to babble on about anything that wasn’t important.

After a long sip of strawberry preserve-sweetened tea, Ivan dipped his quill into ink and began, mouthing the words as he wrote. “My dearest sister Kateryna, my sincerest and deepest apologies of waiting a lifetime to respond to your letter. Please know always that I love you and wish you, Natalya, and Father my best. Tell Mother Superior I also miss her wisdom and kind heart, but do not word it in such a way to feed her ego. Humility had always been the hardest virtue for her to wear.”

He paused, seeing he was already babbling, and he drew in a deep breath before taking another sip of tea and moving onto the next paragraph. “I’m afraid I must keep to brevity, as I had forgotten to pick up more paper during my last visit to the village when selling my wares. I assure you again I am doing well, enough to shock Father and our uncles into our Lord’s arms if he were to see my farm. I do not write this to brag about my accomplishments, however. I write to answer you about your request for me to return to our village and allow Mother Superior to work magic that nearly rivals our dear Natalya’s to calm any remnant fears our neighbors may have towards me.”

Ivan paused to sharpen his quill again and eat some of his own cheese and honey before his anxiety made him lose his appetite.

“I’ve waited this long,” he continued writing, “because I could not come to a decision. You see, I have—”

He paused again. What did he call Alfred? His companion? His friend? He glanced at him, as Alfred hummed in an ecstasy a child may show when offered the rare pleasure in trying sugar or chocolate for the first time. Warmth filled Ivan’s body, starting from his chest, and he reached for his collar only to remember he’d given it to Alfred to keep until a decision was made.

Swallowing, Ivan returned to his letter, allowing his feelings to write the rest of the paragraph before fear could allow him to stop and start over: “I believe I have met my Jonathan. You may ask Natalya if the statement causes confusion. I do not feel like I could possibly leave him behind, as he is tied to this land in a way I cannot begin to understand, let alone explain in a letter. My Jonathan, who is named Alfred Frederick, however, feels guilt in keeping me away from you, Natalya, and Father, and so I told him I would make a deal, which I will explain to you now…”

Once the letter was finished, ink dry, Ivan took it to the wide windows above the trunk in the den. He opened the windows and summoned the raven as Natalya had taught him, the beast larger than natural ravens and with a violet sheen to its feathers. It landed on the sill, waiting patiently as Ivan tied the rolled-up letter to one of its legs. The raven then jumped off the sill and rose quickly high into the air, soon out of view. It would surely reach Kateryna by the next morning, and Ivan sighed, feeling both relief and anxiety as he closed the window.

The rest of the day went by without incident, Alfred helping thread wool with few mistakes and even cleaning without complaint or “accidentally” missing corners.

The two spent more time together in the coming weeks, except when Ivan needed to work the animals. A small miracle happened, even, one day when late-season snow fell, when Bliney looked over and saw Alfred watching him as Ivan saddled him up for a short ride, he stood his ground instead of running. He still pitched a fit whenever Alfred got within five feet of him, but Alfred had gotten so excited that the sight of him didn’t make Bliney run that he chattered on excitedly about it as though the Clydesdale had let him ride him into town.

As time went on, Ivan felt his words to Kateryna grow more and more true. Alfred was his Jonathan.

One late-winter morning, Ivan watched from the stables, patting Sasha on the head as the old sheep leaned against his leg. His wool was thick enough to sheer again, despite the end of winter still being a month away. With how much Ivan harvested each year and how easily and plentifully his animals gave him wool or milk, he wondered if maybe the land was affected by some sort of magic Alfred wasn’t aware he gave it. Or maybe it was just Alfred’s presence. He didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he wanted an answer.

A short distance in front of him, Ilya lay down, mud covering his feet as he crawled forward another few inches on his belly. He kept his eyes forward, on Alfred, who knelt in front of the gate. He sat so still, eyes open wide, as though what happened next would decide the outcome of his life.

In his mind, that was probably true.

Excruciatingly slowly, Ilya kept inching forward, taking long pauses in between as he watched Alfred, as though expecting him to get up and chase him.

By the time Ilya was only a foot away from Alfred, who was getting his baggy, knitted trousers covered in mud by sitting there,Valery had come over and sat on Ivan’s feet to watch the scene in front of him unfold. Solnyshko also watched from atop the sill of one of the house’s open windows, and more sheep and goats were gathering around, Sciocco lightly butting the back of Ivan’s knees for attention (and food).

Even Ivan was holding his breath now, watching with anticipation as Ilya finally stood and pawed Alfred’s thigh. When Alfred still didn’t move, still watching the sheepdog, Ilya finally jumped up onto Alfred, knocking him back with a cheery bark as Alfred let out a surprised yelp.

Staring in surprise and joy, Ivan laughed as Alfred lifted his arms, almost crying when Ilya let him scratch him behind his ears and along his back.

Soon, Alfred was bounding around the field, the chickens, goats, and sheep running off as Ilya happily chased his new friend, panting happily now that he finally had a mate to play tag with—Ivan only went as far to occasionally throw a stick for him, feeling guarding and rounding up the sheep was enough play and exercise for him. He saw now, though, that that wasn’t true, and he was glad Ilya finally had warmed up to Alfred, whose high energy was much more in tune with a dog’s than Ivan, who’d ended up doubled-over and gasping after the first time he plowed the fields here.

Nudging Valery off his foot, Ivan watched Alfred as he continued playing with Ilya. Night was approaching, though, so Ivan headed towards the house, Sciocco trying to follow him and baying when Ivan locked him behind the gate. He stopped after a while, though, heading back towards the barn once Ivan was inside the house.

Solnyshko looked over at him as Ivan passed by to retrieve the lantern in his and Alfred’s bedroom, which now held only one large bed. The smaller beds were in a storage area built above the stalls in the stables, Ivan not sure yet what to do with them.

Humming an old lullaby his mother and later Kateryna used to sing to him and Natalya, Ivan pinched the candle’s wick to light it and then set it onto the table in the kitchen. He then started prepping the oven when a horse outside let out a high-pitched whiny, followed by a scream and familiar voice shouting out orders at the terrified horse.

“Ivan!” Alfred called out, and Ivan nearly crashed through the door leading to the garden and field between the house and road.

On the road were two horses, the Karabakhskaya standing still and unbothered while Ivan’s sisters tried to rein in the Vyatka. By the narrow, cobblestone path leading to the house from the road was Alfred, holding Ivan’s father bridal-style. The old, sickly man looked as though he’d fainted, face pale.

Ivan went to Alfred and his father first, trusting his sisters to get the brown-and-black horse in order. He was sure the pale grey horse was so calm due to Natalya working some charm, and he was certain she could do the same for the other. Ilya was not helping, though, barking at the newcomers, until Ivan shouted an order, and Ilya looked at him, ears up as though in question, but when Ivan glared, the sheepdog ran off, back to the stables.

Alfred’s shoulders dropped in relief as he turned to look at Ivan, but worry filled his face.

“Take him to our bed inside,” Ivan told him. “Prepare a bath for him. There’s a jar of herbs labeled ‘general healing’ in the root cellar. Wrap a fistful of the herbs in a cheesecloth and soak it in the bathwater. It’ll help him.”

Steeling his expression, Alfred gave a nod and rushed Ivan’s father into the house, the door still open, since Ivan had been too much in a rush to close it behind him.

“Father—!”

“It’s alright,” Ivan assured quickly, going to Kateryna’s side and taking hold of her arm to stop her from rushing after Alfred. “Father’s alright. Alfred will lay him to rest and prepare a bath—”

“ _ That’s _ Alfred?” Kateryna’s pale blue eyes, so much like their father’s, widened as fear painted her face.

Done cooing to the now-calm Vyatka, Natalya called over, “Where should we take Alyona and Laska?”

She stood tall, long pale hair plaited down her back. She rode trousers and a tunic beneath her riding cloak instead of a loose dress like Kateryna’s, and a rune sewed into one of her riding gloves glowed softly as clouds drifted and allowed sunlight to reach them.

“I’ll show you two the stables,” he said, pulling Kateryna along with him as she kept glancing back at the house.

Natalya followed while holding onto the horses’ reins, and she asked how long he and Alfred shared a bed.

Both Kateryna and Ivan blushed hard.

“Natalya!” Kateryna chided.

“If you didn’t want me to speak crudely, you shouldn’t have sent me to a convent.”

Blinking, Ivan turned to his older sister. “You said she went there willingly!”

“I did,” Natalya interjected when Kateryna started to stutter, eyes shining with tears that had always come much too easily to her. Ivan rubbed her arm in assurance, keeping her aside after opening the gate, so Natalya could bring in the horses first. “I merely like to tease her, as despite me only being on the other side of the village, she’d still visit every other day to say she missed me.”

“Making this decision all the harder for me,” Kateryna murmured, one of her callused hands laying over Ivan’s. She patted it, looking up to offer him a wobbly smile before glancing back towards the house, her smile slipping. “That—This Alfred…”

They neared the large tub of water, Ilya already there, drinking alongside Bliney. Both looked up, Ilya eyeing the newcomers. He made a throaty growl, sounding like he was about to bark before Ivan ordered him to quiet. Ilya looked at him, Natalya and the horses, then went back to drinking as Bliney trotted around to nuzzle Natalya.

Watching as his younger sister greeted the Clydesdale, Ivan told Kateryna, “He’s lived here alone for many years. Due to his appearance, I feared him too, at first, but he’s kind and listens well. He’s learned to speak, read, and write quickly, and he’s even requested to be baptized.”

Kateryna hummed, eyes on the ground. Her short, wheat-colored hair shifted forward to shadow her round face, and Ivan left her to think, so he could help Natalya relieve the horses of the bags strapped to their sides. He announced he’d bring them into the house and check on their father as well, and Kateryna lifted her skirt and came towards the horses, telling Natalya to help Ivan and that she would take the saddles and bridles off.

“I trust your judgment,” Kateryna told Ivan when he started to protest. “You were correct about the barmaid, who everyone else had turned their back on when her husband spread those nasty rumors, and you were right about that spiritualist being a charlatan. You say you’re not good with people, but you can see their souls. I trust you that you see Alfred’s. But saying that, I do not think Father would appreciate his face being the first he sees when he awakes.”

Ivan wanted to rush to his older sister and hug her tight, but he knew she was right and nodded, grinning as his eyes filled with relieved tears. Natalya took a couple of the bags and followed him to the house, and she offered to help prepare dinner, since they’d come here without giving Ivan word of their plans.

“Leave everything in the oak case in the root cellar,” Ivan told her. “Those are what I plan on selling in town next week.”

Natalya nodded and went where Ivan motioned towards the direction of the cellar door, and he headed to the bathroom, finding Alfred pouring in the last pot of boiling water. The bundle of herbs was already floating in the water, a thin cloud of amber already leaching from the cheesecloth.

“His breathing is even,” Alfred informed as he set the pot onto the ground. “I piled pillows to keep his feet up, so blood stays by his heart, and color is returning to his face. None of his bones seem to be broken.”

“Good,” Ivan breathed, and he knelt down by Alfred, taking his hand in one hand and cupping his cheek with the other. “Thank you. I’m sorry this cut your game with Ilya short.”

He kissed Alfred lightly on his lips, which had lightened back to a tarnished bronze color. Red bloomed over Alfred’s cheeks, making his freckles stand out.

“I—We—” Alfred’s breath was hitched, and he leaned into Ivan. “I can play more later. Are your sisters okay?”

Wrapping his arms around Alfred while being mindful of his spine, Ivan said, “They’re doing well. Surprised, but their horse is calm now, and no one was really hurt. They’re interested in meeting you. Natalya is making dinner, if you’d like to introduce yourself.” He looked down at Alfred’s muddy trousers and chuckled. “Maybe change into your clean pair first.”

Looking tentative but happy, Alfred nodded, and everyone got to work.

Once Ivan’s father was conscious and he’d soaked in the bath until the water went cold, the old man complaining about them all treating him like a newborn, Ivan helped Kateryna and Alfred bring down the spare beds and set them in the den. Kateryna and Natalya waved away apologies for the lack of extra rooms. It was also decided the sisters would share a single bed while their father took the other, so Ivan and Alfred could have theirs.

Despite Kateryna’s earlier fear, their father barely reacted when seeing Alfred, merely offering his thanks for catching him when he fell.

Natalya and Ivan used fire spells to light more candles around the house when it was time for supper, Kateryna urging Alfred to sit when he tried to help her set out all the food. It looked as though Natalya had worked some extra magic, turning food usually only for two into a feast. Her eyes were tired, and beads of sweat ran down her forehead and neck, which she dabbed away with a handkerchief.

“What about this decision you spoke about earlier?” Ivan asked Kateryna after he led them in prayer.

Cutting into a roll and breathing in the steam it released, Kateryna responded matter-of-factly, “There is no reason for you to sacrifice one family for another, and I will admit I exaggerated my optimism a bit in that letter I sent you back in fall.”

“Even Mother Superior can’t completely heal your reputation,” Natalya said bluntly, smearing goat cheese into a roll. She ignored Kateryna’s sharp look. “And the only place that’d be safe for me there is the convent, which… no. They’ve even started dragging Mother’s name through the mud, calling her a succubus or saying she’d sold our souls to the Devil for magical powers.”

“Even though she couldn’t so much as summon light,” their father grunted, picking at his chives and roasted garlic with a fork. “Your gifts came from  _ my _ side of the family, even if it skipped my and my brothers’ generation.”

Ivan blinked in surprise. This was the first he’d heard his father admit to his family’s gifts since Mother had passed.

“I can’t stay with those idiots’ words stringling my own thoughts,” their father said, setting his fork down to take a sip of water. “And the shorter winters here will be better for my old bones.”

“And I think I would enjoy travelling,” Natalya said. “We passed a man two days’ travel from our village, and he claimed to know of a creature that drank human blood to live on earth for eternity. I made us stop to write down his stories and describe the creature he saw, so I could draw it in my journal. I’d like to collect more stories like that.” She looked at Alfred, then Ivan. “If you two prefer to stay here alone, though, I don’t mind finding Father and us a small house in the nearest town. Mother Superior paid me to get out of her hair.”

“That was not her intention!” Kateryna hissed as their father laughed.

“What about you, Kateryna?” Ivan asked, and his older sister blushed slightly.

“I have met my own someone,” she admitted. “Despite the words against our family, I cannot bring myself to leave our farm for long, even if some of our cousins have left also, and I hope to have little ones along the way by next spring. Just please answer my letters more timely. That is my only request.”

“The next day, I’ll start writing,” Ivan promised, making Kateryna smile.

He admitted he would miss his big sister greatly, the feeling rivaling the joy at Natalya and their father staying. Before he made any commitments, however, he looked to Alfred, who was already looking his way, ears perked as he smiled ear to ear. Ivan bit back a laugh, liking that he could read Alfred as easily as one of his books. So many people kept themselves behind lock and key, whereas Alfred put his intentions and feelings upfront.

“We would love for you to stay here with us,” Ivan told his father and Natalya. “I’ve been wanting to talk to a carpenter I’ve worked with in the past about adding a second floor to part of the house, since the ceilings are so high. It looks like there’d been stairs and more rooms before, but the wood had rotted, so it was easier to throw it out and worry only on what was left. Alfred and I can stay upstairs when it’s done, as I’m sure your knees would appreciate not making such a trip everyday, Father.”

Chuckling, the old man nodded, before coughing into his sleeve. “That’s very kind if the two of you are sure—” 

His blue eyes caught the quick movement of Alfred nodding excitedly, and he laughed as Natalya allowed a rare smile.

The rest of dinner went on well, Kateryna filling much of the conversation with tales of the village since Ivan’s departure, and he answered questions about the nearby town and the merchants from other countries that frequented this area come late spring and summer. Natalya talked more of other creatures she’d heard stories of, laughing when Alfred looked scared at some of the descriptions.

“Please don’t give him nightmares,” Ivan pleaded when he recognized that Natalya was not emphasizing the creepier parts of the stories, to get more of a reaction out of Alfred.

Kateryna stayed for two weeks, leaving a few days before Ivan brought the carpenter by to inspect where the new floor would be and start drawing up plans. The cost was more than anticipated, but Natalya had more money than Ivan had expected, and the carpenter wrote up how they could pay in installments over the next two months.

Alfred stayed by the river, behind the stables, when the carpenter visited, Ilya joining him and eventually Natalya’s horse, Alyona. Bliney watched Alyona interact with Alfred for a few days, then approached him as well, though it took longer before he allowed Alfred to pet him. It made Alfred excited at the concept of being able to ride him eventually, and Natalya started drawing up plans for a saddle that would accommodate Alfred’s hooves, and she’d put off her travels to perfect an ointment that could help the pain Alfred’s spine caused him.

Once it was done, she showed Ivan how to make it, in case they’d need more while she was away, and Ivan tried not to be angry with their father when he would bluntly correct Ivan about how he plowed and planted. He knew his father was the more experienced farmer, though, so he kept his advice close to heart.

As promised, he wrote Kateryna the next day after reading her letter, keeping his responses equally long as hers, knowing she’d appreciate all the details of his day-to-day life, their father’s health, Natalya’s travels and growing number of friends (Kateryna had been surprised to learn how social Natalya was becoming), and she was always asking more about Alfred. After a while, Ivan started to include pages Alfred had written, too, and Natalya occasionally included copied passages from her journal about the creatures she heard about. Their father’s tremble and swollen joints didn’t allow him to use a quill anymore, so Ivan transcribed what he said when Kateryna asked.

By next winter, Alfred’s antlers close to falling off, the two sat in front of the hearth’s fire, sipping sweetened tea with Solnyshko and Valery in their laps and Ilya curled up behind them.

“Here.” Alfred set his cup down and took out a piece of bleached-white linen from his pocket. “I’ve kept it, as you’ve said, but I don’t know what you wish for me to do with it.”

Gingerly, Ivan took back his old clerical collar, humming as he turned it over in his hands.

Then, he chucked it into the flames, his movement jostling Valery and making him complain.

“What—?”

“That was my old life,” Ivan said, taking one of Alfred’s hands and leaning towards him. “One I’ve already decided I’m not returning to. I made that vow out of anxiety, a longing to get out of a life I saw as harsh and crushing. This is a life I’ve chosen and continue choosing out of love.”

His smile shaking, Alfred gave a small smile, happy tears streaking down his flushed cheeks. “It’s the same for me.”

They shared a kiss, both wrapped in warmth, inside and out.

**Author's Note:**

> Alfred using voices from Ivan's sisters is based on a Tumblr post that monsters/demons/cryptids/etc do that the same way humans meow at cats to get their attention and pet them. I tried to find the post but couldn't, so if you know the post I'm talking about, feel free to comment with the OP's URL, so I can come back and edit this note to say it. Also, the Not Deer is actually a cryptid from Appalachia in the US, from what I've read, but the setting fits better in Europe, and Alfred doesn't look exactly like how Not Deer are described anyway; I simply used the story as inspiration. Alfred's hair and exposed spine is a bit of inspiration from the mavka.
> 
> EDIT: I found the cryptids post. It's by "catnippackets" on Tumblr, and they also added a cute comic about it.


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